


His Scent

by Crystal



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-28
Updated: 2011-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystal/pseuds/Crystal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by <a href="http://img51.imageshack.us/img51/7027/tumblrlh9us2vtfo1qgllms.png"><b>this</b></a> anime image that reminded me of Adam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Scent

I really shouldn't have let him stay over, but my worst mistake was letting him sleep in my bed. The entire night was hell. My hands literally ached to touch him the way I truly wanted to. I don't know how he didn't feel me behind him trying desperately not to grind against him as he slept. Why do I fucking do this to myself? It's nothing but sheer torture. I ache for him so bad it nearly drives me mad with the need, hunger.

He left hours ago, but as pathetic as it is, I'm still in bed, laying on the side he slept on. I can't help myself. Everything smells like him. The sheets, the pillow, fuck he smells so damn good too. Worst of all he left his T-shirt. I can't help but to lift it to my nose and drag in his scent once more. It's a fucking drug to me. It leaves me craving more with each greedy inhale. There is no other scent like his.

"Mmm Tommy." I moan after another deep inhale.

Bad enough I was hard for half of the night, but his mere aroma has done it again. I turn onto my back uncaring that the sheets are a tangled mess. All I care is that I still have his shirt clutched in my hand. I need it near me. My hand wanders down, a flat palm pressing over the front of my black silk pajama pants. Again I am aching, much like the hours I spent last night restless with it. At least now I can sate my hunger. Not in the way I truly wish to, but enough to get him out of my system for the moment.

I slip my pajama pants down just enough and slid my hand along my cock. Just the fragrance of him from his shirt has me so fucking hard I can't stand it much longer. I only loosen my grip on his shirt to grab the lube from the bedside table. I pour a bit in my hand and toss the tube aside carelessly. My focus moves back to that shirt, that smell, to Tommy. I smell it again, a low growl passing my lips as it envelops me once more. My slick hand slides along my cock. It feels so good to let myself go and indulge myself in my intense hunger. My eyes slip closed as my hand works my cock. Closer and closer to the edge. Tommy's scent urging me on, making my cock throb in my hand. I drag Tommy's shirt up my body, shuddering at the feel of it, wishing Tommy was still in it. A deep inhale of that addicting aroma and I'm teetering on the brink. My grip tightens, my hand moves faster, as I arch into my own touch, wanting, needing release. One more time I take in that scent that is purely Tommy, moaning in sheer need.

"Fuck." One single word and I'm coming, spilling over my hand, unto my stomach, a few spare drops hitting the edge of Tommy's shirt.

Panting, I smile when I see the sharp white contrast of my come on the edge of Tommy's black shirt. If only I could mark his body with my come. The thought turns my smile into a dark smirk. If only Tommy knew what his mere scent has done to me.


End file.
